I've Got an Axe to Grind
by MasqueradeSoundbytes
Summary: Johnny goes to college, leaving St. Jimmy in Jingletown, and angered Jimmy looks for a new victim, finding Christian. At first planning to remold the well-behaved boy into a menace to society, Jimmy finds that the young teen would more useful for revenge.


**Author's Note: Hey, guys. This is my first fic here, and I'd love to continue it if you guys would be so kind as to review. :) Anyway, just as a note—yes, in this story, Jimmy is only a visionary being, but he can leave Johnny (or in this case, Johnny can leave _him_) and go interact with someone else, along with real-life objects. Also, Jimmy can only be seen, heard and felt by those he allows to do so. He's simply invisible, inaudible, and intangible to anyone else.**

**One last thing before the almighty disclaimer! Christian and Gloria's last names in this story come from the people who portrayed them in the "21 Guns" music video, Lisa Stelly and Josh Boswell.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own American Idiot or any of its characters—they belong to the fabulous Green Day. :P**

As the bus groaned and rattled away from the sidewalk, St. Jimmy glowered at its tires, puffing moodily on his cigarette. His foot was aching from kicking the thick wheels in a moment of passionate anger. He lifted it from the pavement, limping over to the nearby stop sign and dropping down on the curb. Crouching, Jimmy rested his arms on his knees and, scowling, exhaled a gray cloud.

Johnny was on that bus. What a sorry little ingrate. After two years of Jimmy helping him out, being his friend...Johnny left him with a crumpled envelope and three enraging words.

_You're not real._

Jimmy could've killed him, but it was too late for that now. Johnny had packed up every belonging in his bedroom and was on that bus, going to college. Leaving Jimmy, and Jingletown, and his mother, and his new stepfather, and his real father, who was resting peacefully on the property of the local church.

All the things he'd done for the kid, and now Johnny was dumping him in Jingletown to rot. He'd given him a little speech while packing for college.

"Look, Jimmy," he'd murmured calmly, "I know we've been... 'friends' for two years. And you think we've gone through it all together, but that's _bull_. I went through all that—the drugs, the booze. Not you. You weren't there for me then, you aren't here for me now, and you'll never be there for me. Do you know why?"

Silence from Jimmy, and Johnny had shaken his head and laughed. "Because you don't exist. So this weekend means goodbye between me and you." Johnny had meant it. Just two minutes ago, Johnny had shoved an envelope into Jimmy's hand, responded to his profanity-filled protests with an apology that was not heartfelt in the least, and followed it up with those three words.

Now Jimmy sat by the stop sign with a throbbing foot and a heart swelling with chagrin. Humiliated, he snatched the cigarette from his mouth and ground it underneath his black sneaker. _Not real_. Whatever, Johnny.

Maybe he should have been hurt, but the only thing wounded was the "saint's" pride. Johnny had been such a great little plaything. Now what did Jimmy have? Nothing. Not a friend in the world, or a dollar in his pocket, or really anything more than what was in his backpack at Johnny's place.

The envelope, he noticed, was still crushed in his fist. A vein was sticking out on the back of Jimmy's pallid hand. He released his grip slowly, staring with just a bit of interest at the envelope in his open palm. "Johnny, this better be some cash," grunted Jimmy, finally prying it open. Inside was a folded piece of paper, which, unfolded, became a square just the right size for a short note.

_Dear St. Jimmy:_

_Sorry about all this. I just need to move on. _

_I created you, so you're in my head. I'm not sure if you can just go on with your life, since you need me to live, you know? But maybe you need to die. You were nothing but trouble._

_I've gotta say, though, Jimmy. You taught me a lot. Thanks._

_Johnny, your "Jesus"_

After reading the note over again, Jimmy shredded the paper and tossed the scraps into the street. "You've got a lot of nerve, Johnny." St. Jimmy did _not_ need some kid to live. He could do that alone. He _would_ do that alone.

As Jimmy sat brooding alone, a rusty white car with a scratched paintjob and mud-caked tires came down the road, engine running noisily. A dark-haired fourteen-year-old with deep blue eyes sat in the back seat, beside a girl of the same age with her coffee-colored hair in a long ponytail. Her brown eyes locked with the boy's, and each forced a nervous smile at the other.

"Chris, Glory," said Christian's mother, looking around at them in the passenger seat. "You kids excited?"

Gloria let out an uncertain, "Ehhh...", communicating her on-the-fence feelings about moving to a new town. Christian shrugged, eyes trailing to the window. His father was beginning to drive past a 7-11, where a teen in dark clothing was sitting on the curb in front of the chain-link fence at the edge of the convenience store's parking lot. The boy was glaring, lighting a cigarette.

"Oh!" cried Gloria, her voice shaking with building laughter. Water shot up beside the windows on the left side of the car as she spoke. Christian's father had run into a pothole filled with water from the rainfall a day ago, and Christian could hear the angered, indignant cursing of the teen who he must have accidently sprayed. Christian looked behind them, through the back window. The boy was scrambling to his feet, lighter in one hand, cigarette in the other. He was soaking wet.

"Stop the car, Dad," Christian requested sharply. His father was surprised, but hit the brakes.

"What?"

Gloria was still laughing quietly. "You splashed that kid." Before another word could be said, Christian was out of the vehicle and walking back toward the 7-11. He was quickly joined by Gloria. They strolled side by side back to the stop sign, where a very wet, very angry boy of about nineteen was glaring at them. His left eye was partially shrouded by a curtain of dripping black hair.

Christian couldn't find anything to say. He stared into the teenager's cold green eyes, while Gloria stood looking around. "I thought there was someone sitting here," she muttered, clearly bewildered. Christian glanced over at her, offering a small smile for what he thought had been a joke.

But it was no joke. Gloria could not see the person standing right in front of Christian and her. She did, however, notice the water pooling by itself on the sidewalk, where her boyfriend could see the strange young man standing. Dismissing it as part of the results of the car rolling through the pothole, she looked to Christian again. "I saw him when your dad splashed him," she swore seriously, still puzzled. "And then I heard him yelling...Maybe he left? Didn't you see him too, Chris?"

"Gloria?..." Christian chuckled. "Maybe you need new contacts—look." He swung out an arm, gesturing to the silent stranger. "I don't know if the Jingletown oxygen is any different than it was in New Jersey, but maybe your brain's still getting used to it."

"Stop messing with me."

"What?..." Christian's face fell. "Gloria, _he's right there_."

"Really funny," she replied, nodding. "C'mon, I still haven't seen my new place yet. You said you wanted to help me unpack, and my mom won't let you stay if I don't get home on time." She'd turned around to begin heading back to the car, but Christian didn't budge.

He argued, "Can't we give this guy a ride or something?"

"Do I get a say in any of this?" snapped a voice. Christian turned, having forgotten to say anything to the victim of his parents' old white car.

"Sorry 'bout that."

"'Sorry'?" hissed the boy, jade eyes narrowing. "You _ruined_ my lighter, practically _baptized_ me just now, and then your sister over there acts like I'm not even standing here."

"She's not my sister, she's my girlfriend," Christian informed him.

The teen's eyes burned brightly, murderously. "Big whoop. Now how're you going to fix this?" Christian frowned.

"Um, you want a ride home? Where do you live around here?" The glare in the stranger's eyes intensified greatly. He began to shrug off his leather jacket (which was ornamented by noisy metal—small chains, studs and spikes, and zippers), revealing the form-fitting black undershirt beneath it. He looked even scrawnier now, bones visibly poking up through his pale skin.

He muttered hotly, with poorly-hidden difficulty, "I'm kinda homeless now." Christian could not tell, but the young man was thinking about his only belongings, crammed tight in a backpack at his former best friend's home. Christian himself was thinking about how bad he felt for the guy. He honestly looked like he had nothing.

"What's your name?"

"Saint Jimmy, and you better not wear it out."

"Yeah, no problem, I guess. I'm Christian Boswell," said Christian. "That girl was Gloria Stelly. You got a last name?" Jimmy snorted.

"No."

Incredulous, Christian only nodded. "Okay. Well, you can jump in the car with us, if you want. There's luggage stuffed everywhere, but you'll fit." He didn't add that it was because he was so scrawny and underfed-looking. "My parents won't mind if you at least dry off at our new place."

Jimmy shrugged, tying his jacket around his waist in a racket of jingling metal. "Thanks." Christian began to walk toward the car, which had stopped several meters away. Jimmy followed, limping close behind him. At the car, Christian opened the door and asked Gloria to move over to let Jimmy in.

Gloria informed him with a smile, "We were waiting for you and 'Jimmy' to finish talking so we could leave."

Her boyfriend replied, "Sorry. Jimmy's gonna go with us, if that's okay...Mom, Dad?"

"Fine by me," laughed Mrs. Boswell, also convinced that Christian was joking around. His father also agreed, and began driving again. In the back seat, Gloria pulled out her iPod and offered one of the headphones to Christian. She put in her own when he took it, turned on the music, and closed her eyes.

After a moment, Christian had Blink-182 in one ear, and Jimmy in the other. "You guys just moved here?" he asked.

"Our furniture's already in the house, but it's official today," Christian whispered back. He didn't want Gloria to hear and make another crack about his "invisible friend". He didn't get why she was ignoring Jimmy, but decided it might have been something he didn't understand. She'd probably tell him later.

"Why's your girlfriend with you guys?"

"She's moving here too. Her mom got here yesterday, but Gloria spent the night with us in Jersey. We're dropping her off today." Christian paused. "Oh, man. I forgot I was supposed to go to Gloria's with her. You'll have to come with me."

Jimmy only shrugged nonchalantly. "No sweat. I've got all day..." He looked at Christian and smirked. The evil-looking smile made Christian wonder if he really wanted to spend a whole day with a guy like St. Jimmy...


End file.
